The moon is set in ice my friend
The heavens sparkle and shine
The old guy staggering in the cold
Looks out at the far-divine.
Money for food or money for heat
He gathers his coat around his feet
And he dreams of the heaven he knew as a child
When everything was lovely and everything was wild.
So, you, look at anything except this screen
Raise your voice and scream
That the emptiness
That infects your heart and disturbs your mind
And stymies your art,
Will pass with nothing, nothing, left behind
Except the vaguest, most beautiful
Passingly musical rhyme.
That will inspire your haunted
All that is left